


Triple Tease

by the_random_writer



Series: Triples [3]
Category: Bourne (Movies), Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux, RED (Movies), The Bourne Supremacy (2004)
Genre: Central Intelligence Agency, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Doppelganger, Gen, Snark, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys find a way to stay entertained during a deathly dull CIA meeting.</p><p>A crossover fic that combines Cut & Run with my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/324236">Separated Twins</a> series, featuring William Cooper from 'RED' and Kirill from 'The Bourne Supremacy'.</p><p>Will only make sense if you have seen both movies, and know about a certain facecast for Ty Grady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triple Tease

Ty puffed out another sigh, and Zane's warning sirens started to blare. That made four sighs in twenty minutes, each one louder and angrier than the last; an ominous and reliable sign that Mount Grady was about to blow. And _not_ in an enjoyable way.

Not that Ty's frustration really came as much of a shock. If anything, Zane was only surprised it had taken his husband this long to pull to the end of his tether.

They'd been sitting in this room for the last three hours, pretending to listen closely while a series of CIA analysts competed for the somewhat dubious honour of slowly boring them to death. The current presenter—an overweight man in his mid-forties with all the charm and personality of a day-old Caesar salad—was so far winning by a mile. Zane was already making plans for the clueless, paper-pushing twit who'd decided this compliance review was the best possible use of their time. Plans that involved either a reasonable amount of violence or clandestine administration of extra-strong laxative drugs.

He comforted himself with the realization it could be a _lot_ worse. Because he and Ty only provided safe-house support and never ventured into the field, they only had to attend these meetings twice per year instead of every other month. He honestly had no idea how the other people in the room endured the more frequent sessions. Although, given how menacingly Kirill Orlov was scowling at Mister Salad, perhaps 'endured' was not the most appropriate word. Even William Cooper—an ambitious, obedient company man if ever Zane had seen one—looked as if he'd long since given up on the presentation and was now simply contemplating whether to have chicken or fish for lunch.

There was at least some light at the end of this particular tunnel. The meeting was due to end in forty minutes and then it was time to hit the range. Officially to prove to the CIA that they still knew one end of a gun from the other, but shooting at inanimate objects would also bleed off most of Ty's irritation. It was as close as Zane could get to taking him to an off-leash park, and allowing him to hump, sniff or bark at everything in sight. On second thoughts, the canine comparison wasn't _entirely_ fair. Zane could at least train a dog to follow his every command—something he hadn't as yet been able to achieve with Ty. And certainly not for lack of trying.

Another unhappy sigh, louder and less subtle again, but this time, not from his other half. This one came from Kirill Orlov, who had obviously reached the stage where scowling darkly was no longer a good enough way to express how he felt. Oh, dear. Bad enough that Mount Grady was about to blow, but now the Orlov Geyser was building up a head of steam as well? Zane's memories of the diabolical paintball game hadn't as yet had time to fade. So he knew fine well that if Ty and Kirill went nuclear together, the situation would end in tears, especially for the clueless bastard up at the front. 

Fortunately, he wasn't the only member of the group picking up on the imminent risk of a boredom-induced ballistic strike. William Cooper looked right at him, then at Kirill, then at Ty, then back at Zane, his eyebrows very slightly raised. He held Zane's gaze just long enough to send him a message, loud and clear. Do something, _anything_ to keep Beavis and Butt-Head from going even semi-postal in the middle of a legal briefing.

Zane pointed his thumb at his own chest and raised an eyebrow back at Cooper, silently demanding to know why it was his turn to look after the kids. William gave a small shrug and turned his attention back to the presentation, making it clear he was pulling rank and the ball was now in Zane's court. Zane briefly considered another hand motion—one that would make it clear to Cooper where he could stick his precious rank—then sighed quietly and bowed to his fate.

This wouldn't be the worst thing he'd ever done for the CIA. And out of the two of them, it probably made a lot more sense for the childminding duties to fall on him. William was now a Section Chief and had both the ambition and talent to climb much further up the ladder. He couldn't involve himself in frivolous or foolish behaviour, especially in front of the other people in the room, all of whom were his direct reports. Zane and Ty, on the other hand, were doing this whole CIA thing very much as a part-time gig. The only ambitions and hopes they had for their new roles were to earn some money and have some fun, preferably without getting shot.

Zane hooked a finger around his phone and slid it quietly into his lap, hiding it from view under the heavy lip of the desk. At least they were able to use their phones in this satellite office location, unlike at Langley itself. They weren't supposed to respond to incoming calls or texts while the presenter was doing their thing, but that rule, like many others, was often completely ignored. Cooper was the ranking man in the room and easily the worst of the lot, although in his defense, he did carry _two_ phones. Not that it really mattered. The guy running the presentation was as oblivious to their phone use as he was to Ty and Kirill's mounting frustration. They could all be logged into YouTube, watching cat videos or hardcore porn, and he wouldn't notice worth a damn.

Zane opened a new message, added in Ty and Kirill, then after a moment's hesitation, William as well. Why leave the company man out of the fun? 

Lone-Star:> You boys holding it together over there?

Around the table, three other phones quietly buzzed or flashed. Ty and Kirill quickly followed Zane's example and drew their phones down into their laps. Cooper left his phones on the desk but swiped at something on one of the screens, switching to another app. Zane smirked. So Cooper would watch the game from the stands, but he wouldn't step out onto the field in case he got mud on his shoes. _Definitely_ a future Director in the making.

Lone-Star:> Only thirty-five minutes more, then we can go shoot stuff

Meow-Mix:> Five more minutes of this bullshit, and the only thing I'm gonna shoot is the fucker up front

Crazy-Ivan:> I have spent the last half hour thinking about how I want to kill him

Meow-Mix:> What did you decide on?

Crazy-Ivan:> At the moment, I am leaning towards waterboarding him to death

Meow-Mix:> Doesn't that take a long time?

Crazy-Ivan:> Only if you do it right

Meow-Mix:> Can I watch?

Crazy-Ivan:> I will show you how to hold him down

Meow-Mix:> Awesome

Meow-Mix:> Who doesn't love to learn new skills?

William, who had been following the conversation with occasional, subtle, downward glances, turned his gaze on his wayward twin and gave his head a tiny, disapproving shake, letting Agent Orlov know this was _not_ an appropriate conversation to be having on a work phone. Kirill made a dismissive face at his rule-abiding older brother, letting Agent Cooper know the field in which he sowed his fucks was an empty and barren land.

Crazy-Ivan:> Viko does not like it when I speak of these things

Meow-Mix:> Why's that?

Crazy-Ivan:> Waterboarding is apparently a very sensitive topic at the CIA

Meow-Mix:> Can't for the life of me imagine why

Crazy-Ivan:> Was never like this in my old job

Meow-Mix:> Oh yeah?

Crazy-Ivan:> We used to compare notes at our weekly meeting

Meow-Mix:> That's… actually quite horrific

Crazy-Ivan:> My apologies Tyler

Crazy-Ivan:> I forget how pure and innocent you are

Crazy-Ivan:> That you have never once in your life harmed or killed a single soul

Meow-Mix:> Dude, even I have standards

Crazy-Ivan:> Not that I have noticed

Meow-Mix:> You're funny

Zane allowed himself to relax and mentally reduced the threat level from DEFCON 2 to DEFCON 3. The children were well and truly distracted for now. And it was nice to see Ty mostly bitching _with_ Orlov for once, instead of bitching _at_ him. Although, that might yet prove to be a temporary truce, to help them survive against a common foe until the end of the review. He sincerely hoped not. The constant bickering was amusing up to a certain point (and it certainly kept their mental squirrels and ferrets busy), and then it was simply exhausting. He didn't know where either man found the time, energy or inclination to keep the verbal battle going.

Crazy-Ivan:> I think I have changed my mind

Meow-Mix:> About me having standards?

Crazy-Ivan:> Don't be ridiculous

Crazy-Ivan:> About how I wish to kill this presenter

Meow-Mix:> No waterboarding then

Crazy-Ivan:> You seem disappointed

Meow-Mix:> Maybe a little bit

Crazy-Ivan:> I understand

Crazy-Ivan:> But I believe a punishment should fit the crime

Meow-Mix:> We would have to bore him to death then

Crazy-Ivan:> Indeed

Meow-Mix:> How the hell are you gonna do that?

Crazy-Ivan:> I am thinking

Meow-Mix:> Is that what that horrible noise is?

Meow-Mix:> You could always describe your sex life to him

Meow-Mix:> Because that would bore the utter shit out of me

Crazy-Ivan:> Now who is being funny?

Meow-Mix:> You fucking started it

Crazy-Ivan:> Did not

Meow-Mix:> Did too

Crazy-Ivan:> How?

Meow-Mix:> You were born first

Zane sighed and rolled his eyes, wishing in hindsight that he'd pushed the babysitting duties back to Cooper. He might be the most senior member of the quartet, but unlike the rest of them, he was also a father of two young children, so he surely had some experience of dealing with this kind of behaviour. He smiled broadly as an image suddenly popped into his head, of William warning Ty not to bite the other kids and ordering Kirill to stand in the naughty corner.

Crazy-Ivan:> I think I have a solution

Meow-Mix:> Yeah?

Crazy-Ivan:> Have you ever seen 'A Clockwork Orange'?

Meow-Mix:> Once, but it was years ago

Crazy-Ivan:> It is one of my favourite movies

Meow-Mix:> Why am I not surprised?

Crazy-Ivan:> There is a brainwashing scene in it

Meow-Mix:> Where they force the guy to watch TV

Crazy-Ivan:> We could try that, but use this presentation instead

Meow-Mix:> Death By PowerPoint

Crazy-Ivan:> A fitting and elegant end, yes?

Meow-Mix:> You've got my vote

Crazy-Ivan:> I wasn't aware that I needed it

Meow-Mix:> Feel free to go fuck yourself any time

It occurred to Zane then that if Ty and Kirill wanted to continue their battle beyond the end of the current meeting, he could always suggest they work out their issues in the gym instead. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he really liked the idea. Then they could finally settle this ridiculous pool once and for all.

Everyone and their dog at Langley had apparently placed a bet on when Ty and Kirill would come to blows, and who would then come out on top. The last time he'd looked, the board was running about 60-40 in Ty's favour. 

Cooper had naturally put his money on his younger brother. He'd quietly confessed to Zane that he actually wanted Ty to win, just to see someone finally knock some humility into his obnoxious twin. But he _did_ have fraternal loyalty to consider. The last time he'd pissed Kirill off, his sibling had 'borrowed' his car and his driver's license, then blown through a speed trap on the George Washington Memorial Parkway going fifty over the limit. The cop who'd caught him had not been at all amused, and neither had Mrs. Cooper.

Meow-Mix:> Maybe William's right

Crazy-Ivan:> I doubt it

Meow-Mix:> Maybe killing this guy is going too far

Crazy-Ivan:> You disappoint me

Crazy-Ivan:> But continue

Meow-Mix:> Maybe a complaint to personnel would do the trick

Crazy-Ivan:> On what grounds?

Meow-Mix:> Sexual harassment

Crazy-Ivan:> How is he sexually harassing you?

Meow-Mix:> He's boring me so hard I feel like I'm being violated

Crazy-Ivan:> Would think you were used to that

Meow-Mix:> Ha fucking ha

Zane stole a glance at his watch and saw that the end was mercifully now in sight.

Lone-Star:> Only twenty five minutes to go now

Lone-Star:> You don't have to last much longer

Crazy-Ivan:> I bet you say that to Tyler all the time

Lone-Star:> Kirill are you *ever* nice to people?

Cooper let out a raucous snort, causing some heads in the room to turn towards him and the hapless presenter to pause. Not realizing what was going on at the very back of the room, he'd naturally assumed the snort was aimed at him and the contents of his presentation. Cooper pointed at one of his phones, as if to lay the blame on a particularly surprising text, and gestured at Mister Salad to continue.

The text conversation also resumed.

Crazy-Ivan:> Sometimes

Lone-Star:> When?

Crazy-Ivan:> When I am in a very good mood

Lone-Star:> And what puts you in a very good mood?

Crazy-Ivan:> Shooting people

Lone-Star:> Well that's not at *all* disturbing

Crazy-Ivan:> Fucking people

Lone-Star:> So I have to get you laid for you to be nice to me?

Crazy-Ivan:> Of course not

Crazy-Ivan:> Do not need your help to get laid

Crazy-Ivan:> Am perfectly capable of doing it myself

Lone-Star:> Well excuse the fuck out of me

Crazy-Ivan:> Really, Agent Zane

Crazy-Ivan:> There is no need for a potty mouth

Zane let out a quiet sigh and set his phone back down on the desk. He should have known better than to get sucked into one of the Russian's mental wars. He would keep his eye on the conversation, but he would leave it to Ty and his mental squirrels to take the arrogant bastard down.

And he was _definitely_ going to suggest the side adventure to the gym. The thought of watching his husband bludgeon Kirill into a mat made various parts of his body tingle with anticipation. Probably best not to think about it too much, or he'd be using the table to hide something bigger than his phone.

Meow-Mix:> Your family tree must be a goddamn Cactus

Crazy-Ivan:> Why is that?

Meow-Mix:> BECAUSE IT'S FULL OF ANNOYING PRICKS

Zane coughed to smother his laugh and gave his husband a grateful wink. Ten points to Gryffindor. Cooper shot Ty the mother of all filthy looks then quietly picked up one of his phones. Fuck being a Section Chief and setting a proper example to his staff. Player Four was entering the game.

Cute-Hair:> I would slap you for that, Grady

Meow-Mix:> Come at me bro

Cute-Hair:> But I'm not allowed to hit little girls

This time it was Ty who produced the filthy look and Kirill who quickly covered his snort. Ten points to Slytherin, and the honour of the Orlov clan was restored. Although, Zane wasn't entirely sure what that last comment said about William Cooper's mental state. Because you had to be either suicidal or absolutely fucking nuts to call Ty Grady a little girl. Based on how intently he was frowning, a point Ty seemed to be about to make himself.

Meow-Mix:> You do know I'm a highly-trained killer?

Cute-Hair:> We're *all* highly-trained killers, Grady

Meow-Mix:> Do you have any idea how highly-trained you have to be to make Recon?

Crazy-Ivan:> Please

Crazy-Ivan:> Recon is for grandmothers and frightened children

Meow-Mix:> The fuck did you just say?!

Crazy-Ivan:> You heard me

Meow-Mix:> Your brother didn't make Recon

Cute-Hair:> That's because I didn't go for Recon

Crazy-Ivan:> He probably had much better things to do with his time

Crazy-Ivan:> Like learning how to be a proper marine

Crazy-Ivan:> Instead of a little girl

Zane's eyebrows shot up under the curls of his bangs. Jesus fucking Christ. This was going to be an absolute bloodbath. Ty wouldn't just bludgeon Orlov into a mat; he would use his face to clean and polish the gymnasium floor.

Meow-Mix:> Orlov, you make me believe in reincarnation

Crazy-Ivan:> Why is that?

Meow-Mix:> Because nobody can be this much of an asshole in one lifetime

Crazy-Ivan:> We Orlovs have always been overachievers

Meow-Mix:> The only thing you're overachieving at is making people hate you

Meow-Mix:> If we killed everyone who hates you

Cute-Hair:> It would be genocide instead of murder?

Meow-Mix:> Fuck you Cooper and let me tell my goddamn joke!

Cute-Hair:> Tell a better fucking joke then

Cute-Hair:> I saw that one coming before you were even born

Zane would sooner shoot himself in the balls than admit it, but Cooper had a good point there. And Ty was usually so good with his snark. But hunger often made him lose his edge, and they _were_ an hour away from lunch. A chicken sandwich and a bag of Cheetos would no doubt put him to rights.

Meow-Mix:> You're identical twins

Cute-Hair:> Congratulations

Cute-Hair:> Your observation skills are razor sharp

Meow-Mix:> If I stab one of you, does the other one feel it?

Cute-Hair:> Don't be ridiculous

Meow-Mix:> That's a shame

Meow-Mix:> I could kill two assholes with one knife

Crazy-Ivan:> You talk about killing people a lot

Meow-Mix:> So?

Crazy-Ivan:> It is quite disturbing

Meow-Mix:> Says the man who has to shoot people to be in a good mood

Crazy-Ivan:> But I am in excellent mental health

Meow-Mix:> Which drooling idiot told you *that*?

Crazy-Ivan:> My psychiatrist

Meow-Mix:> Has he actually met you?

Crazy-Ivan:> Of course he has

Meow-Mix:> Jesus

Crazy-Ivan:> What about you?

Meow-Mix:> What about me?

Crazy-Ivan:> Do you have a psychiatrist?

Meow-Mix:> What if I do?

Crazy-Ivan:> What does he say about your mental health?

Meow-Mix:> He says 'mind your own goddamn business you ignorant Russian prick'

Zane grinned. There was the snark he knew and loved. The poorly delivered joke was probably a one-off fail.

Crazy-Ivan:> Temper, temper

Cute-Hair:> I think you hit a sore spot there, bro

Meow-Mix:> I'll give you a sore spot any day, Cooper

Meow-Mix:> Right between your puny balls

Cute-Hair:> I actually have very manly balls

Meow-Mix:> Not manly enough to go for Recon

Crazy-Ivan:> You talk about balls a lot

Meow-Mix:> Not as much as you talk about fucking

Crazy-Ivan:> But that is because I like fucking

Meow-Mix:> And maybe I like balls!

Cute-Hair:> We noticed

Meow-Mix:> Not that I don't like fucking as well

Crazy-Ivan:> Who does not like fucking?

Meow-Mix:> A friend of mine doesn't

Crazy-Ivan:> Does he like something else instead?

Meow-Mix:> Blowing stuff up

Crazy-Ivan:> I suppose that is an acceptable replacement

Meow-Mix:> Seems to work for him

Meow-Mix:> What about you, Cooper?

Cute-Hair:> What about me?

Meow-Mix:> You're the only one of us who's married with kids

Meow-Mix:> Do you still like to fuck?

Meow-Mix:> Or do you just play golf and weed the garden?

Cute-Hair:> None of your goddamn business

Cute-Hair:> But I fucking hate golf

Cute-Hair:> And I would rather set the garden on fire than weed it

Meow-Mix:> Oo-fucking-rah to that

Crazy-Ivan:> Do not worry

Crazy-Ivan:> I lived in his house for eight months

Crazy-Ivan:> He likes to fuck as much as the next guy

Meow-Mix:> That's good to know

Crazy-Ivan:> But only if he can write a report about it after

Zane let out a delicate laugh. Mister Salad kept right on talking, but slowed his pace very slightly, finally picking up on the fact that some of his guests were focusing on other concerns. Cooper sighed quietly and gave his brother a thunderous look. That last remark had obviously hit slightly too close to home.

Meow-Mix:> Think you're in trouble now, comrade

Meow-Mix:> Big bro's gonna kick your ass when we're done here

Crazy-Ivan:> Don't be ridiculous

Crazy-Ivan:> Big bro could not kick my ass if I painted it red and bent over in front of him

Crazy-Ivan:> Except perhaps if he was fighting me for the last piece of pie

Cute-Hair:> Kir, why don't you shut up and give that hole in your face a chance to heal?

Crazy-Ivan:> Oh dear

Crazy-Ivan:> Someone rolled out of the wrong side of his cage this morning

Meow-Mix:> Maybe he needs to get laid

Crazy-Ivan:> If he gets very tetchy, I will call Michelle and find out

Crazy-Ivan:> Offer to babysit the children so they can go on a nice date

Meow-Mix:> Will he write a report about that after?

Crazy-Ivan:> Only if the pudding is good

Meow-Mix:> So if he's lucky, it could be a two report night?

Crazy-Ivan:> Viko's idea of heaven

Meow-Mix:> You do know we're going to their house for dinner tonight?

Crazy-Ivan:> As am I

Meow-Mix:> What's it worth not to show this convo to Mrs. Cooper?

Crazy-Ivan:> Go right ahead

Crazy-Ivan:> She'll shout at you just as much as she'll shout at me

Meow-Mix:> Even if I'm the guest of honour?

Crazy-Ivan:> You have not met Michelle

Meow-Mix:> She can't be *that* bad

Crazy-Ivan:> Tell that to the man who stole her parking space at Whole Foods last week

Crazy-Ivan:> I actually felt sorry for him

Crazy-Ivan:> I thought she was going to drag him out of his car and beat him to death with her handbag

Crazy-Ivan:> It would have been my first corpse on American soil

Meow-Mix:> You still haven't managed to pop that particular cherry?

Crazy-Ivan:> Not yet

Crazy-Ivan:> It is probably for the best

Meow-Mix:> Don't tell me you've developed a conscience?

Crazy-Ivan:> Not at all

Crazy-Ivan:> But I have not yet found a good place to dispose of human remains

Meow-Mix:> I recommend Florida

Crazy-Ivan:> Really?

Meow-Mix:> How'd you think the gators get so damn big?

Meow-Mix:> Not from eating kale and arugula salad

Crazy-Ivan:> But Florida is so far away

Meow-Mix:> I could show you some good locations in Virginia

Meow-Mix:> If you ask nicely

Cute-Hair:> STOP TALKING ABOUT KILLING PEOPLE

Meow-Mix:> He's definitely tetchy

Crazy-Ivan:> I will have a word with Michelle later

Cute-Hair:> NO YOU WILL NOT

Meow-Mix:> He really loves that shouty button

Cute-Hair:> Not as much as I love my shooty button

Meow-Mix:> You gonna pop a cap in me, Cooper?

Cute-Hair:> I'm trying real hard to come up with a reason not to

Meow-Mix:> Think of the paperwork

Cute-Hair:> I like paperwork

Meow-Mix:> You'll ruin your wife's dinner plans

Cute-Hair:> Won't be the first time

Meow-Mix:> You can't shoot another CIA agent

Cooper paused, gave his twin a knowing look, smiled slightly, then resumed his text assault.

Cute-Hair:> TRY ME

Meow-Mix:> He's shouting at me again

Meow-Mix:> Gonna report his sorry ass to personnel

Cute-Hair:> What the hell for?

Meow-Mix:> You're picking on me

Cute-Hair:> This is the CIA, you dumb fuck

Cute-Hair:> We pick on everyone

Cute-Hair:> If you want a hug, go back to the feebs

That was a comment too far for Zane. He and Ty no longer worked for the FBI, but they'd racked up almost thirty years of service between them, and still had some residual loyalty to the organization, or at the very least, to their former colleagues and friends.

He pulled his phone down into his lap and quickly put his thumbs to work.

Lone-Star:> Is that what you think of FBI agents?

Lone-Star:> That they spend all their time hugging each other?

Cute-Hair:> Well they sure as shit don't spend it solving crimes

Lone-Star:> Getting real tired of that mouth of yours, Cooper

Cute-Hair:> What's the matter, Garrett?

Cute-Hair:> You need a hug?

Cute-Hair:> You *were* a feeb for twenty years

Cute-Hair:> You probably can't make it through a morning without one

Lone-Star:> You meet me at the end of the day

Lone-Star:> And I'll show you *exactly* what I need from you

Cute-Hair:> Don't think I can do that

Lone-Star:> You scared of me, Cooper?

Cute-Hair:> In your dreams

Lone-Star:> Then what the fuck is the problem?

Cute-Hair:> You know how I'm not allowed to hit little girls?

Lone-Star:> Yeah?

Cute-Hair:> Well I'm not allowed to hit senior citizens either

Even Kirill had the sense to wince.

Right. That was _it_. No more trading insults over text. It was time to teach this mouthy, arrogant, pie-eating bastard a lesson he would never forget. And Zane had no intention of leaving the instruction to Ty. He was damn well going to do it himself, even though it might end with him learning a lesson of his own.

On second thoughts, maybe dinner at the Cooper house wasn't such a good idea...

Lone-Star:> You're dog meat, Cooper

Cute-Hair:> Does anyone know where the yawning eyeroll emoji is?

Cute-Hair:> I can never find the damn thing

Lone-Star:> Langley has a gym, right?

Cute-Hair:> Actually, no

Lone-Star:> What do you mean, _no_?

Cute-Hair:> There's a room in the basement with some free weights and a handful of exercise machines

Cute-Hair:> But I wouldn't go so far as to call it a gym

Lone-Star:> Is it big enough that you can lie down on the floor?

Cute-Hair:> Yeah

Lone-Star:> Then it'll do

Lone-Star:> Because that's where you're gonna end up

Lone-Star:> Curled up in a ball on the floor, crying for your mommy

Crazy-Ivan:> You do know that our mother is dead?

Crazy-Ivan:> And that Viko saw her die?

Lone-Star:> You stay the hell out of this, comrade

Lone-Star:> Let your brother fight his own fucking battles

Crazy-Ivan:> Viko, I have no rules about hitting old people

Crazy-Ivan:> I could deal with him if you do not want to

Cute-Hair:> Thanks, man

Cute-Hair:> But your leg's not up to it

Cute-Hair:> And I could use the cardio

Crazy-Ivan:> This is true

Crazy-Ivan:> He is all yours then

Lone-Star:> So are we gonna do this or not?

Cute-Hair:> If we must

Lone-Star:> Our last meeting ends at four

Lone-Star:> I'll meet you in the gym at Langley at four thirty

Crazy-Ivan:> I will bring the popcorn

Crazy-Ivan:> And a body bag as well

Lone-Star:> Make sure it's big enough to hold your brother

Meow-Mix:> I actually think you should bring two bags

Crazy-Ivan:> Why is that?

Meow-Mix:> Because when Zane kicks your brother's ass you're gonna fucking die of shame

Cute-Hair:> Both of you bitches are dreaming

Cute-Hair:> But four thirty at the gym it is

***************

Zane reached up behind him to pull his seatbelt into place, and winced as a sudden wave of pain washed across his battered ribs.

As much as it literally pained him to admit it, Cooper had caught him a really good one there. For all that the former marine must now spend most of his hours sitting behind an office desk, he'd obviously stayed in excellent shape, and lost none of his fighting edge. Zane hadn't even seen the final blow coming—a vicious, roundhouse kick to the guts that had knocked the breath right out of his body and left him lying flat on his back seeing a pretty pattern of darkness and stars.

He had several other aches and sprains, but the bruising to his ribs was the worst. Fortunately, nothing he couldn't handle, and that wouldn't heal completely with time.

Ty glanced over from the driver's seat, his brows furrowed in concern.

"You okay there, babe?" he asked.

"Hurting a little bit, but nothing a bag of frozen peas, a couple of Ibuprofen and a day or two of bed rest won't fix," he replied, smiling gently through the pain.

Ty grinned at his battered spouse. "It was a hell of a kick, but if it's any consolation, you gave just as good as you got," he said. "So I'm pretty sure Cooper's currently telling his old lady exactly the same thing."

Zane snorted, then immediately winced and made a mental note not to laugh before the end of the week. "And at least I can cover my bruises up."

"Jesus, I never thought about that," Ty replied, grinning again. "I swear, I was so excited when you landed that punch, I almost popped wood. You should have seen Orlov's face, though. I think he actually cried."

"Good!" was Zane's emphatic response. "Might teach both of them to think before they open their fucking mouths."

"Just a shame I didn't get my shot at Crazy Ivan as well," Ty said in a wistful tone.

Zane reached over to give his husband a comforting pat on the thigh. "Next time, doll. Good things come to those who wait."

"And we should probably give the building maintenance guys some time to patch up the hole you made in the gym wall."

"In my defense, I _was_ trying to make it in Cooper's face," Zane explained. "Not my fault he ducked."

"And you landed it perfectly the second time."

Zane nodded, remembering the look of horror in Cooper's eyes. "Damn fucking right I did."

They fell silent for a few moments as Ty focused on manoeuvering through the heavy traffic into the inside lane.

"Wonder how Mrs. Cooper feels about what I did to her husband," Zane mused as Ty exited onto a quieter road that led them further into McLean.

"She probably wants to rip your fingernails out one at a time."

Zane made a troubled sound, not quite a sigh, but not quite a groan either. "You think it's safe to go to their house for dinner?" he asked.

"Jesus, Zane, it's not like she's gonna poison you," Ty pointed out, snickering quietly. "Slip some anthrax into your Tuscan three bean soup while you're looking the other way."

"You're right," Zane acknowledged. "I'm being ridiculous."

"But let's make sure we don't both turn our backs to her at the same time," Ty proposed. "Just in case. Deal?"

"Deal."

Zane felt his phone vibrate against his side. He leaned over—more carefully this time—pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, swiped it open and peered at the screen.

"It's Kirill."

"What's he want?"

"He wants to know if we've stopped to buy the wine yet."

Ty glanced at the GPS. "Tell him no, but we're less than a mile from the store, so if there's a change of plans, I need to know right now."

Zane tapped out a quick response. Kirill's follow-up was equally rapid in arriving.

"He says he just arrived, and Michelle's _really_ pissed about William's face," Zane explained. "So to buy a good bottle, something French, at least thirty bucks."

Another buzz, another text.

Zane read it and winced. "He says if we buy something really nice, she might let me leave the house alive."

"Jesus," Ty murmured.

"I'm kinda scared," Zane quietly confessed.

"I'm kinda wishing I'd brought my Glock."

"Screw a gun," Zane exclaimed. "I'm kinda wishing I'd brought my _lawyer_."

Ty shook his head. "Wouldn't help."

"Why the hell not?"

"She _is_ a lawyer, remember?"

Zane gave a loud groan. "So she is. Oh fuck, if she's an ambulance chaser, I'm totally screwed."

"I think Cooper said she's in copyright or trademark law, so I'm sure you're fine."

"Easy for you to say," Zane huffed. "You're not the one who's about to die a horrible death at the hands of an angry wife."

"Relax, man," Ty said, trying not to laugh. "Ten bucks says Mrs. Cooper thinks her husband's a fucking idiot for picking a fight with a badass former feeb, and Kirill's just winding us up."

"Couldn't hurt to take his advice, though."

"I suppose not."

Zane had another idea. "Or we could call the whole thing off and go home."

"Let you get that bed rest you need?"

"You can rub me with the bag of peas," Zane offered.

"Think I'd rather rub you with something else."

Zane smiled. "Works for me."

Ty activated his turn signal and slowed enough to pull off the road into a small, upscale mall. He swung the car into a space, switched off the engine and gestured towards the row of stores.

"What's it gonna be, then? Dinner with the Coopers, or home to bed and takeout from Chiapparelli's?"

Zane sighed. "It would be _incredibly_ rude to pull out now."

"Lone Star, I bet you say that to _all_ the boys," Ty drawled.

"Michelle will hate us," Zane pointed out, ignoring the filthy remark.

Ty snorted. "You just broke her husband's face, babe. She already hates us."

"We can't change our minds now. Not with ten minutes notice. Think how your mom would feel if someone did that to her."

"But that doesn't mean we have to make it a long night."

"We do have to drive back to Baltimore after," Zane pointed out.

"So we go for dinner, but bail out after the main course."

"What if she's made a nice dessert? You wouldn't want it to go to waste."

"William'll eat it."

"Good point."

"Let's do this," Ty said, opening the car door. "You stay here, I'll buy the booze."

Ty was almost to the store when Zane had a sudden thought. 

He rolled down the window to shout some instructions after his spouse. 

"Meow Mix!"

Ty stopped in his tracks and turned. "What?" he hollered back.

"Don't even _think_ about buying a litre of Mike's Harder Punch in black grape flavour," Zane warned with a knowing grin. "That does _not_ count as a nice bottle of wine!"


End file.
